


A Depth Of Pure Blue (Just To Probe Curiosity)

by carofnerds



Category: Yogscast
Genre: Incest, M/M, is best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 17:01:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carofnerds/pseuds/carofnerds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little Railcest drabble I felt like writing. Because really, there isn't enough railcest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Depth Of Pure Blue (Just To Probe Curiosity)

**Author's Note:**

> There's a lot of veiled symbolism in here and stuff, but I worked hard, so all comments and kudos are appreciated!  
> (also, I wrote 50% of this at school /cackles/)

Benji is painting stars on their bedroom door. He’s taller than Strippin, in the past year he’s shot up past his twin and can now reach things Strippin can’t, paint stars where he was never able to. The brunette huffs out a small sigh, watching concernedly as his twin leans on his tiptoes against the door, his fingers gripping the top as he paints a scruffy yellow star on flaky blue paint that’s been there for years. If he leans much more, his fingers will be jammed between door and frame, Strippin thinks. He clenches his hands into fists, shifting in his seat by their desk. He wants to rush in and pull Benji from the possibility of harm. He probably does it too often; it’s probably why Benji always hurts himself on the rare occasions when he’s alone. Because Strippin’s never let him face danger.

And he’s not about to.

Broad hands grasp Benji’s waist and pull him back. “You’ll trap your fingers,” the brunette twin grunts.

Benji hums, placing his brush in the small tin of dandelion paint. “I’ll be fine man. Don’t worry too much.”

“I’ll stop worrying when you stop doing stupid things mate,” Strippin replies, gently brushing some paint off Benji’s pale cheek with a broad thumb. He grasps Benji’s shoulder tightly, “Someone has to keep you out of trouble.”

The albino twin laughs this time, a small chuckle that somehow fills the room with impermanent joy. “It’s just a door Strippin, it’s not out to get me!”

The brunette pouts a little, although he’d never admit to it, and huffs, throwing himself onto the bottom bunk of their bed. “Fine. I see how much you appreciate me-“  
Benji groans, “Oh no don’t do this, c’mon.”

“-Clearly you don’t want me around, you’re oh /so/ able to do things on your own now. I get it. I guess I’ll pack my bags Benj because you don’t want me-“

“Stop it!” Benji giggles, sitting on Strippin’s stomach and giving him a playful smack across the chest. “I’m not a fucking idiot is all. I think I can paint a door without losing all my fingers.”

The brunette grumbles, but doesn’t make a fuss when Benji returns to the door. His twin, despite his protest, doesn’t go back to the top, instead he paints by the handle. The room remains in a contented silence for a few moments. Strippin’s eyes do a slow waltz over the Benji’s back and hunched shoulders, the nape of his neck and down his spine. He knows this landscape by heart; he’s marked it as his own many times, with the scratches of nails or bruises left by teeth.  
He also knows how little time they have left to themselves.

It’s inevitable, of course, that their safe bubble of protection would eventually burst in the face of adulthood. Not long now until they both move into the world of work, apply for apprenticeships by the railways like they’ve always dreamed. Eyes stray from the small of his brother’s back to the model trains all around their room. The promise of escape that each toy had held for them when they were younger, the encroaching realisation that that promise was not going to come true. They’d always be in the view of others, unable to escape prying eyes and love each other. 

He rises from the bed once more, softly shuffles to Benji’s side, and gently pushes the door closed with the tips of his fingers so as not to smudge his brother’s work. Benji looks up at him, once again returning the paintbrush to its can. A rough palm cups pale chin, the brunette comes to his knees and kisses his twin. It’s a soft and simple brush of lips, but the push back and warmth as Benji’s part and accept fills them both with infinite warmth.

Yes, they’ll lose each other a little very soon.

But until then, they are free.


End file.
